


(Lost) Cause

by Naemi



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canonical Child Abuse, Drama, Gen, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Trick or Treat 2017, mostly pre-show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 16:30:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12485944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naemi/pseuds/Naemi
Summary: Without looking up, Isaac says, “I fell,” so quickly and hushed that it's easy to pretend he didn't utter an obvious lie.





	(Lost) Cause

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cyren2132](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyren2132/gifts).



> Dear cyren2132, I sincerely hope this is somewhere along the lines of what you wanted to see.

Melissa McCall's tired eyes flick from the pile of patient charts to the waiting area and back to the top file.

_Isaac Lahey._

Something about that name rings a bell. As Melissa searches the waiting area again, her gaze falls on a boy maybe thirteen years old—about her own son's age—who sits with his shoulders hunched, his left arm cradled in his right, and his eyes fixed on his shoes, or maybe the pattern on the worn-out linoleum, or maybe nothing at all. When he looks up briefly, two thoughts cross Melissa's mind at once: _I've seen that kid around before,_ and, _Lahey—they still haven't found a trace of her._

The case of Mrs. Lahey's disappearance made headlines. The woman was reported missing a few weeks ago, and although the police had issued a statement saying they found no indication of any crime, suspicions and rumors were kept afloat when it leaked to the press that she had vanished without taking a single personal item with her. Her clothes, her credit cards, her passport—even her grandmother’s pearl wedding necklace was found neatly in place.

Furthermore, Melissa thought, no woman in her right mind would leave her kids behind just like that. But maybe that's why Mrs. Lahey had wandered off. Maybe her mind wasn't all that right to begin with.

Melissa shakes her head once and brushes her hair out of her face with the back of her hand as if to wipe away the malicious speculations about a woman she only met once.

“What are you still doing here? Your shift ended an hour ago. Go home, Melissa. Get some rest.”

Melissa blinks her eyes into focus. The contours before her slowly form the head nurse's round face.

“Go home,” Nurse Medina repeats.

“No. No, I got this.” On impulse, Melissa grabs the Lahey boy's chart. “I'll take care of this one.” She produces a weak smile. “We're so understaffed right now … I can do one more.”

Before her superior can reply or ask questions that have no answers, Melissa turns and approaches the waiting area.

This time, the smile on her lips is genuine when she stands before the Lahey boy, but it almost shatters when she sees the faint purple bruises on his face and the side of his neck. Her heartbeat stumbles.

“So, Isaac, right?” Melissa is as glad as she's surprised that her voice doesn't quiver. “I see you hurt your arm?”

Without looking up, Isaac says, “I fell,” so quickly and hushed that it's easy to pretend he didn't utter an obvious lie. But the flicker of fear in his eyes when he finally meets Melissa's gaze tells her all she needs to know.

She decides against following protocol and asking about a parent.

~ ~ ~

“There's nothing I can do, Melissa.” John Stilinski sighs. 

“I know what I've seen. Lahey is beating up his kids, or at least one of them. Isaac's shoulder was dislocated and he had bruises all over his arm, for christ's sakes.”

“And that couldn't have happened from falling from his bike?”

“Bike accidents don't leave finger-shaped imprints.”

“You already called CPS. If they didn't find anything … What do you expect me to do? Arrest Lahey on a hunch? My hands are tied.”

Silence settles between them, broken only by the shouts of their sons playing out some Star Wars lightsaber fight in the Stilinski's back yard.

Melissa stares at her friend with frustrated disbelief. She shakes her head once, twice, then throws her hands up because she can't figure out what else to do or say at this point. When she starts turning away, John stops her with a hand on her shoulder.

"I was there when we questioned Lahey about his wife. He's … kinda slick. Has all the answers ready. I've also seen the house. Nothing looks in any way suspicious. And it's not like either boy has an exhausting record of injuries, or have they?”

“Not really. Not that I found out, anyway.”

John nods. “As far as CPS and the law's concerned right now, these bruises came from some bullies at school. Unless the kids come forward or we have a witness, there's nothing we can do about it. Other than keeping an eye out, that is.”

Melissa purses her lips, but when she looks into John's face, she finds in his eyes the same concern she knows is alive in her own.

“Is that gonna be enough?”

John heaves a sigh. “I don't like it any more than you do, but that's the situation right now.”

~ ~ ~

Weeks turn into months, and Melissa gathers no more proof about the abuse going on in the Lahey house than the police finds traces of Mrs. Lahey.

Isaac doesn't return to the hospital, but Melissa occasionally runs into him on the street. He always produces a small nod and a faint smile, and she always scans his skin for bruises—fresh or old. Oftentimes, she finds none, but sometimes she thinks she sees some purple or green or yellow blossoming underneath his shirt collar. Every time Melissa stops to talk to Isaac, he's quick with an excuse and gone faster than it takes Melissa to register he's wearing long sleeves again, even in summer.

She knows. She keeps calling CPS now and then. All they keep saying is that “everything seems fine,” until after a while, the lady in charge turns to telling her curtly to mind her own business.

Ironically, that's around the time when Melissa runs into Mr. Lahey in the Wal-Mart parking lot, and he tells her the same.

She doesn't mean to approach him, but then she sees him usher Isaac to his car rather roughly, and before she knows what she's doing, she's already on her way over to confront the man.

Lahey turns, and Melissa stands rooted to the ground a few steps away. The look in his eyes is so cold that it chills her heart.

“Nurse McCall,” he says casually. The small smile playing about his lips is as venomous as a rattlesnake bite. “It's good to see you. I'd meant to talk to you.”

“Is that so?” Melissa says with more confidence than she feels.

Lahey closes the distance between them. He radiates a hostility that almost makes Melissa take a step back.

“I wanted to tell you to leave me and my family alone. I know it's you who keeps calling CPS, and you're only making things worse. And if you don't stop sticking your nose into my business, I'll have to sue you for harassment.”

Melissa fumbles for words. Staring at Lahey, she opens her mouth, but before her vocal chords can produce the smallest sound, he turns back to his car, slams the driver's door shut, and starts the engine.

~ ~ ~

Months turn into years during which Melissa slowly but surely shakes off the memory of Isaac Lahey and his bruises. It's not that she means to forget about him, but after the threat of a lawsuit, she is cowed enough to back off. It's been fruitless anyway, and John was right: Without proof or a witness, there's nothing they can do.

Life happens and the memories fade until one stormy night Melissa opens the door to a sodden and distraught looking Isaac. His slender frame shivers to the core, whether from the rain or something that's cutting deeper, Melissa can't tell.

“Scott's in his room,” she says softly.

Isaac nods. Two steps into the house, he hesitates.

She waits for him to say something or maybe to turn and look at her, but he only grabs his duffel bag harder and makes a fist with his other hand.

His feet barely make a sound on the hardwood floor.

~ ~ ~

When Melissa returns from a late shift two nights later, she finds Isaac staring out the window of the dark living room. Her hand hovering over the light switch, she hesitates. She doesn't harbor the illusion he hasn't heard her, but he stands so still as if he's far away, and she doesn't want to disturb him. She closes the door as quietly as she can and tiptoes toward the kitchen when Isaac's soft voice startles her.

“Thank you,” he says.

Melissa turns to face him and sees in the dim light provided by the street lamps a flicker of gold, glowing like embers. All of a sudden, she feels the weight of having failed him on her shoulders. It's crushing her, clawing into her flesh, and pressuring her heart out of rhythm.

“I mean it. I know … I know you didn't have to.”

Acid burns Melissa's throat. She takes a shaky breath and presses her purse closer to her chest like a shield.

The minutes stretch into an awkward infinity until Isaac turns to face the night outside the window again.

Melissa's grip around her purse loosens when she realizes he expects her to walk away again. She can't blame him; probably all he knew people ever doing was walking away from him. And frankly, it's the easy thing to do. It's what Melissa did, against better judgement. If she hadn't given up, they might not be standing here right now and listen to the clock ticking away unused time.

Melissa walks to the couch and sits down. “I had this high school friend,” she starts, and although the words are still unsorted in her mind, her voice is calm and even. “Her name was Tara. She was … a little clumsy. Pretty clumsy. She hurt herself a lot—fell down the stairs, off her bike, and one time, she even jammed her hand in the car door. It was really bad, but she shrugged it off. She used to laugh about how much she apparently hated herself because she was always getting herself hurt.”

Isaac sighs. He raises his hand and trails a ray of light caught on the glass.

“Can you guess what happened to her?”

“I have no idea,” he says so flatly that it makes Melissa's heart ache.

“She died.”

“Was it an accident?”

“You tell me.”

Sighing once more, Isaac leans his forehead against the window. He stands so still again that Melissa is convinced this is the end of the conversation. And maybe that's okay—Isaac's father is dead, and whoever else wants him harm won't get past Melissa, past Scott. Not this time.

“It wasn't like that,” Isaac whispers. His breath clouds the glass. “It was … complicated.”

“A parent hitting their child is never complicated. It's plain wrong, no excuses. But what's just as wrong is to look the other way. Like everyone did with Tara. Like everyone did with you. Like I did.”

“No, you didn't. I know … I know you cared.”

“Not enough. I should have…” Melissa lets out a long, shaky breath.

“You shouldn't worry.” Isaac turns to face her once more. “I'm fine now.”

“You are,” Melissa confirms and secretly vows never to let him down again.

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the wonderful **Moit** , who also made sure all characters were returned unharmed.
> 
> [Visit my LJ-community [Bunny Bash](https://bunnybash.livejournal.com) to leave me a prompt at any time.]
> 
> [Feedback is love.]


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